


When Did I Say That I Would Save You?

by AccioMjolnir



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 06:13:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18772885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccioMjolnir/pseuds/AccioMjolnir
Summary: He hadn't intended to get attached, but she was wise, and she was kind. These are snapshots that run the course of Inquisition and their relationship.





	When Did I Say That I Would Save You?

***

As soon as she comes within reach he grabs her arm and wrenches it toward the tear in the sky above them with barely a word. Without any effort on her part, the _thing_ on her hand reacts. Power pulses through her palm and she feels his fingers wrapped around her wrist, strong and resolute, as the rip in the veil sews itself back together and closes with a bang that reverberates into her bones. He lets go with his hand, but his eyes remained locked on her, curious.

"What did you do?"

This is her first memory of Solas.

***

“I am an apostate mage surrounded by Chantry forces, and unlike you, I do not have a divine mark protecting me. Cassandra has been accommodating, but you understand my caution.”  
  
“You came here to help, Solas. I won’t let them use that against you.”

His tone changes, his voice gentler, quieter, and he takes a step toward her. He sounds weary, almost sad. “How would you stop them?”

“However I had to,” she responds, without hesitation. Two daggers at her slender hips all she has against a small but growing army. Solas gives her a small smile, surprised.

“Thank you.”

***

They grow close quickly, conversing with endless enthusiasm about history and the Fade. The way he speaks is melodic and she finds his voice enthralling, and her genuine interest in what he has to say endears her to him. His tone, so reserved and careful when around Cassandra, is softer with her, gentler. More comfortable.

One night as the sun falls below the mountaintops, they move to sit by the fire, and she takes a chance, sitting so near him their thighs touch. He does not move away, and when she twines her fingers into his, he squeezes her hand.

***

She can’t remember Cullen finding her or scooping her up. She has to be carried down the mountain.

“A word,” Solas appears out of nowhere, rushes by her, and grasps her hand. He pulls her with him until they are alone, and then a thousand thoughts rush out of him. The orb. Elven magic. The impostor wielding what is rightly theirs. Certainty that the humans will use it against them when they find out. And then once it’s all out of his system: a warm embrace, a kiss on the top of her head.

“I’m glad you are all right.”

***

He turns, looking up at the Breach.

She watches him for a moment. Studies the lines of his face, the sharp line of his jaw. Then, she reaches out, pulls him toward her, and kisses him. Just as quickly she pulls away, and then the corner of his mouth turns up and he grabs her. He wraps his arms around her and leans in, relishinging her.

He lets go, shaking his head, and then kisses her one more time, unable to control himself. And then it’s over, and she is alone, his hushed voice echoing in her head: “Wake up.”

***

“Oh, does it not count if it’s only Fade tongue?”  
  
“I--it’s always--” he stammers, and she grins impishly. He continues, with a small laugh. “It’s probably best if we don’t, this could lead to trouble.”

“I’m willing to take that chance,” she says, and then, softer: “If you are.”

“I… maybe,” he says, also softening. “Yes.” Another pause. “If I could take a little time to think.” He reaches out and takes her hand. “I am not often thrown by things that happen in dreams.”

“Take all the time you need,” she replies. She squeezes his hand. He squeezes back.

***

“Inquisitor, _please,_ ” his voice is like a knife, emotion sharpening its edges, the scene before him horrific. His friend is trapped, and its captors are _lecturing_ him.

“I will do everything in my power to save your friend, Solas,” she says, worried, even as the demon roars angrily and her options seem nonexistent. They seem to narrow even further after they manage to release the spirit from its bindings and Solas turns on the mages. As he approaches them, she only utters his name and it seems to stop him.

“I need some time alone.” And then he is gone.

***

She sits on the stairs, waiting. She puts her energy into staying seated as she watches him walk slowly into Skyhold, standing only when he passes the gate. He keeps her at arm’s length.

“You don’t have to be alone,” she says, finally, and he looks at her then, really studies her. After a little eternity, he replies.

“It’s been so long since I could trust someone,” he says, and his voice cracks as he hangs his head, showing the true weight of his grief to her, just for a moment.

“I know.”

“I’ll work on it. And thank you.”

***

Again she finds herself grabbing him, pulling him back. “Don’t go,” she says, and he doesn’t turn. He stops.

“It would be kinder in the long run,” he says, and then he does turn, and he is coming close, so very close. And then his arms are around her again. “But losing you would…”

Their lips come together, and he pulls her close, holding her to him, parting her lips with his tongue. They are not in the Fade this time. The sun shines brightly, and a crisp breeze blows. And then he is walking away.

“Ar lath ma, vhenan.”

***

She gets her memories back and they lose Hawke all at once. She thinks she’s lost Varric as well; he stays with the Inquisition but he is diminished. She sees the loss crush him and wonders.

“What if it were me?” she asks Solas in the herb garden, and he looks at her with one eyebrow raised. “If I stayed to fight the Fear demon and the rest of you left the Fade.”

“You couldn’t have,” he says, gesturing toward her hand and the Anchor.

“If I were normal,” she says. “Humor me.”

“Then they would have lost us both.”

***

“Come, before the band stops playing, dance with me,” he says, holding out one hand in a grand gesture. She looks at him quizzically and then accepts his hand.

“You seem comfortable here,” she says, and he smiles at her, his cheeks slightly flushed. He’s been drinking. So has she.

“I’m comfortable with you, ma sa’lath,” he replies. He leads her around the balcony, keeping time with the music floating out onto the balcony from within the hall. With a flourish he dips her and she laughs brightly. When he brings her back up he kisses her. This is happiness.

***

They bump foreheads, laughing drunkenly, tumbling out of bed with a thump. The bedding comes down with them.

“Are you all right?” he chuckles, stroking her bare arm with one hand, supporting himself over her on the floor with the other. She looks up at the bed and then at him in the dim light of the moon from the windows.

“I landed on--” she reaches down, twisting her back up, pushing her stomach into him as she arches. She reveals his wolf’s jaw. “Teeth.”

More laughter. He leans down and nips her neck playfully. She tosses the pendant aside.

***

“Run, run, _run_ ,” she mutters, watching the dragon spin and focus its gaze on Solas. It starts to spit fire, and then she _sees_ the power gather around him as he summons a _giant fist_ out of _thin air_. The dragon’s front legs splay outward as its jaw connects with the ground and then Solas is bolting her way.

He gasps for air as he crouches beside her. She stares at him as he rips the cork from a vial with his teeth.

“What _was_ that?”

He grins at her. Then the dragon roars, and they are both up again.

***

Something changes when she stops Morrigan from drinking from the Well of Sorrows. Solas refuses to take it himself, shuts down that line of questioning forcefully, and then says that they should take it. He accuses Morrigan of salivating like a dog at a feast, full of greed and lust for power. It seems that he is supporting her in taking it for herself.

But then she takes it, and he looks at her differently. He still takes her hand, still kisses her, still loves her, clearly. But the Well changes things between them. She just can’t figure out why.

***

She sits by the pool with him, listening to the waterfalls. He’s taking her vallaslin, casting his spell gently, intimately. His hands are so close to her skin, barely touching her, his spell removing the markings she’d come to think of as part of her face. She looks at her reflection in the water and barely recognizes herself.

Then the gentle voice she loves so much. “You are so beautiful,” and “I’m sorry.” He walks away.

She closes her eyes and lets the tears flow down her bare face. She thinks she will never understand. She doesn’t _want_ to understand.

***

Corypheus is dead. She stands, surprised by the silence when moments before the world around her had been so loud. She looks down. The Anchor still sputters brightly on her palm. She looks up again and sees Solas kneeling down beside the broken orb.

They have a brief moment alone. He looks at her with pain, and she responds with concern. “I’m sorry” echoes in her mind.

“No matter what comes, I want you to know that what we had was real,” he says, and then she is drawn away. Cassandra is coming.

When she turns back, he is gone.

***

All of Skyhold is celebrating. Leliana tries to reassure her; Cullen offers a few words of “he’s not good enough for you” support. Josephine offers her a gentle embrace.

It is overwhelming.

She finds herself looking for him in the crowd despite knowing he is no longer there and finally she gives up for the night, retreating to her balcony. Even there she senses his absence. How many times have they shared a quiet moment here? She leans against the railing and crosses her arms, looking out at the mountains.

She closes her eyes and recalls their dance at Halamshiral.

***

He is sometimes there in the periphery, when she dreams. He never comes close; he stays to the shadows, keeps his distance. Sometimes she tries to ignore him; sometimes she tries to goad him into coming closer.

Once, and only once, he comes close enough to touch. He hushes her when she tries to speak with a finger to her lips, but he allows her to hold him, and she once again feels his hands upon her skin, and his lips against hers. He says he loves her over and over before she wakes.

It becomes her most treasured memory.

***

The Anchor begins to hurt her as it did when she first got it, and panic rises in her heart as she remembers that it was Solas who tamed it in the first place.

“You’re sure we’re trying everything? Looking everywhere?” she asks Leliana, and she can see that the Nightingale senses her rising fear.

“I assure you we are still searching for him,” she responds. As if on cue the Anchor bites her; a stinging electricity rushing through her hand and up toward her elbow.

“I think I’m running out of time,” she says. “I need him. _Find him._ ”

***

The Viddasala makes reference to agents of Fen’Harel only a few times, just enough to plant a seed, but it’s when she sees an abandoned mural in an old ruin in his familiar style that it all comes together in her head. It’s a single, overwhelming revelation. She swears and kicks with anger, sending an old shield clattering down the side of the building as it falls.

“Inquisitor?” Thom Rainier prompts her, his bushy brow furrowed, and she gestures wildly at the painting.

“The _wolf_ ,” she grinds through her teeth. “Don’t you see it?”

“See what, Inquisitor?”

“Fen’Harel. It’s _Solas._ ”

***

“I was Solas first. Fen’Harel came later.” She’s thrown her realization down at his feet like a gauntlet and he accepts her anger after two years of running. Both their voices crack as they retread their relationship, the lies and abandonment boiling between them. They are alone now, mere feet apart, and the urge to touch, to embrace, to feel each other is overwhelming. But neither moves to do it.

“Ir abelas, vhenan,” he finally says, and she throws it in his face.

“Tel’abelas,” she says with a tremor. “If you really care, tell me the truth.”

So he does.

***

The Anchor stings her so badly that she cries out and falls to her knees.

“Solas, _please_ ,” she begs, her voice raw, long-fought tears finally welling in her eyes. “It’s killing me.”

“Vhenan,” he says in his familiar, gentle tone, finally closing the space between them, kneeling beside her. He closes his hand around her wrist and casts his spell.

“Solas--”

“My love,” he kisses her. She tastes salt on his lips. Her own tears fall free as he stands and turns away. One last tenderness. “I will never forget you.”

This is the last memory she has of Solas.  


**Author's Note:**

> This was a challenge to myself. I used to spend a ton of time on LiveJournal writing in drabble challenges, and the effort it took to fit a concept into 100 words exactly was a fun exercise. So every section of this fic is 100 words exactly. I had a lot of fun with this. I'll probably do it again.


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